


Sweet Child

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Axl shifted, and then he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the wall.The crickets were doing their usual symphony, a cacophony of simultaneous chirps and awkward violin imitations that proved to, not only keep Axl awake, but grate on him nerves majorly. This wasn't anything new, but it was far from anything even remotely welcome. He just wanted to sleep, godamnit. 'But if this is my penance, then so be it.' Axl thought, sinking a little lower while his chin was resting against his chest.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Sweet Child

Axl shifted, and then he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the wall. 

The crickets were doing their usual symphony, a cacophony of simultaneous chirps and awkward violin imitations that proved to, not only keep Axl awake, but grate on him nerves majorly. This wasn't anything new, but it was far from anything even remotely welcome. He just wanted to sleep, godamnit. ' _But if this is my penance, then so be it.'_ Axl thought, sinking a little lower while his chin was resting against his chest. 

In the eternal darkness that the night seemed to offer with endless care, Axl couldn't see five inches in front of his face. He could see strands of his own fiery red hair, which was surely like a beacon in the darkness, and he could see the paleness of Izzy's skin. Axl reached out, and his fingers grazed over Izzy's side, over the bumpiness of his rib cage, and a small mole that lay nestled between there and the waistline of his jeans. 

"Mhm." Izzy jolted away, startled, but still asleep. Strands of his dark hair fell into his face at the sudden movement, but he did not yet stir from his sleep, which was desperately needed after weeks of extensive touring. In the throes of his slumber, Izzy looked peaceful in ways that he never looked in the waking hours. 

No, life had scarred him too badly for anything more than weary glances. 

Axl remembered when they were kids, and spent hours upon hours at the old train tracks near the borders of Lafayette. Both of them wanted to escape homes, albeit for vastly different reasons. Back then, Axl had believed them to be invincible. Izzy, meanwhile, had been grounded in reality. 

Sometimes, they would argue about the dumbest shit, usually revolving around their plans to run away and never look back. Sometimes, they'd go weeks without talking to each other. But it never lasted long, because they needed each other. 

Like a bee needed honey, like a car needed gas, like a human needed blood, like a druggie needed his fix. 

Neither of them could live without each other, and that was a sad fact. 

Izzy made another noise from deep in his throat, and he frowned, suddenly agitated. "No - not right now." He mumbled, kicking out his legs, and nearly succeeding in giving Axl a concussion if not for the redhead moving quickly out of the way. "Go 'way. I said _noo-oo."_ Izzy smacked at somebody, still sleeping, and then turned to his side, one of his hands tucked under his head. 

Quiet, and careful not to move too suddenly, Axl watched, awaiting for another start, but none came.

Perhaps the monsters in Izzy's mind had retreated again. 

Axl wished his own were so easy to tame. 

" _No!"_ Izzy suddenly yelled out, kicking again. "Get away from me! Get away from me! I said no, I said no. Let me go!" He was approaching hysteria, a state that was far from his usually calm, annoyingly quiet demeanor. Izzy was digging his nails into his skin, trying to rip imaginary hands off of his skin, but there was nobody to be seen, and far from saving himself, Izzy was doing nothing more than making himself bleed. 

They were at a motel, and Axl feared that their temporary neighbors would hear the screams and assume the worst, which they likely would, considering the nature of the words. He smacked his hand over Izzy's mouth, and flattened his other hand against the younger man's chest. The screams became muffled, but Axl could feel teeth scraping against the palm painfully. Axl could feel Izzy's heartbeat, thundering wildly against his ribcage, as if trying to escape the confinement. 

Izzy kicked out, trying to escape, hitting Axl with closed, desperate fists, but it didn't work. He wasn't strong enough, nor awake enough, for anything more than panicked thrashing. 

"Wake up." Axl said. "You gotta wake up. It's just a dream." He could feel the tension in the room, could feel Izzy's breathe against his hand, threatening to start hyperventilating. Axl hoped that it wouldn't happen - Izzy was hard enough to calm down as it was. 

A muffled yell split forth from Izzy's lips, some sort of profanity directed toward his imaginary attacker. He scratched and pulled at Axl's hand, hard enough that his bitten nails left marks. 

Axl removed his other hand from Izzy's chest, and lightly slapped him. Not hard enough to hurt him, nor leave a mark, but enough to startle him awake. Axl watched as Izzy lurched toward, moving away so that Izzy had room to breathe and gather himself before any type of communication would be made.

In the darkness of the room, it was easy to hear the slightest noises - the sound of water dripping from the faucet, and crickets chirping outside. The wind was howling like a wolf in the endless woods, and the people next door were screaming at each other. Axl was reassured that he had nothing to worry about, and that Izzy's screams weren't enough to warrant a call to the police. 

God, Axl didn't need to worry about that, too, on top of everything else. 

He frowned down at his arm, which was riddled with white scratches, not hard enough to have actually broke the skin, but that had hurt, damn it. "Can't you see somebody about these dreams?" Axl asked, rubbing his hand over the light scratches, looking up at Izzy. 

In a far cry from his usually untroubled demeanor, Izzy was soaked in sweat, and breathing so hard that it sounded like he was dry heaving. His eyes were wide, but fixed firmly onto the wall. Izzy's lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. 

"Iz?" Axl leaned foward, but only barely. "Jeff, are you awake?" He reached out and lightly, almost like the landing of a butterfly, placed his hand on Izzy's shaking forearm. 

As if the touch had reawakened him, Izzy jolted, and he turned to Axl. "If you had to, would you be able to kill yourself?" He asked. 

Axl was surprised - and concerned - by the sudden question. "What?" He pulled a face, unsure of how to react. "Don't say shit like that, Iz. That's why people think you're so weird." 

Izzy shook his head, almost vehemently. "Answer the question." He said sharply. 

With a skeptical frown, Axl debated between answers. And then, finally, he shook his head and reached out, grabbing Izzy by his hand, not liking how cold the younger man felt. Just like a corpse, risen from the dead. Izzy looked like one, too, which made Axl's blood run cold. 

There were bags underneath Izzy's dark eyes, and his skin was pallid enough to almost seem translucent. His hair was limp and greasy, hanging around his thin, bony face. 

"No, I couldn't." Axl answered. 

Izzy looked away. "Okay." He said quietly. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, mainly because there didn't seem to be anything that could be said. Axl didn't even know what he was supposed to do, because there wasn't any manual for this sort of situation. There wasn't anything that could be done when somebody you loved was tearing themselves apart. 

' _Does he even know that you love him? Or does he just think that you're in it because he's good for sex?'_ Axl pressed a kiss to the top of Izzy's head, an oddly chaste offer of affection. "What were you dreaming about?" He asked, tracing an absent pattern on the back of Izzy's neck. 

Izzy refused to meet Axl's eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it." He mumbled, and a shiver wracked his body. It was cold in the room, despite the California heat that was making itself known outside, and Axl bent down and retrieved the blanket, pulling it up so that Izzy was covered. 

When they were children, Axl was usually the one who needed to be brought back down to reality, and reassured of the several assurances - that somebody else was right there with him, that nothing could break him unless he allowed it. 

But the difference between Axl and Izzy was that Axl was the one breaking himself down, and Izzy - well, nothing for absolution could be discerned, but there seemed to be something within, tearing him to shreds. 

With that being said, Izzy's eyes were haunted, as if he'd seen things that nobody else had. 

"Okay." Axl decided that it wasn't a battle that needed to be fought. For once in his life, he would concede, and watch as the tension in the room seemed to worsen. 

Just as the feeling increased, Izzy buried his face in Axl's neck. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this." Far from his rather introspective questions and far-away gaze, Izzy seemed to almost be back to his normal self, except for the lingering effects of his nightmare, which was shown in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the way that he didn't bend into Axl's hold, but instead melted into his arms. 

Axl shrugged. "That's fine. I'd rather have to have you like this than not at all." He stroked Izzy's hair, hoping to lull him back to sleep. 

And a few minutes later, Izzy did. His breathing evened out, and Axl could feel him drift off into a more peaceful sleep. 

But yet, as hours went by, and as Izzy snuggled closer, Axl couldn't fall asleep, his mind full of thoughts and forbidden fears, all about the beautiful man in the arms, and the terrible truths about those monsters. 


End file.
